High above the crumbling spires of the Imperial City, the sky had bruised into a deep, sickly violet—the hallmark of the Dimensional Rift. Below, the survivors of the 13th Division huddled in the shadow of a fallen clock tower. Their commander, Kaito, gripped a blade that was humming with a frantic, rhythmic pulse. It wasn't his heartbeat; it was the sword’s. "It’s here," Kaito whispered.
As the entity raised a hand of swirling void, Kaito didn't swing. He let his sword drop. The steel clattered against the cobblestones, a lonely sound in the vacuum of the apocalypse. He closed his eyes and felt the Demon’s cold aura wash over him—a thousand screams of people who never were. [S3E10] The Demon of the End
The "Demon of the End" wasn't a beast of flesh and bone. It was a silhouette of absolute nothingness, a tear in reality shaped like a man. As it stepped through the courtyard, the stones beneath its feet didn't crack—they simply ceased to exist, erased into white static. High above the crumbling spires of the Imperial